The One In Which I Talk Way Too Much About Someone Else’s Poop

I was trying to work on the “parent part” of some crafts the kids are doing for Mother’s Day while they were playing in the tub last night. Suddenly NikkiZ hollers “EWWW!” and I turn my head to see her standing up and saying, “Mom! AndyZ pooped in the bathtub again!”

This is what I get for telling the story last week about the “First time he every pooped in the tub!” – this is going to be a habit now. That was a Rookie mistake.

I drop everything I’m doing and try not to laugh as we repeat the motions from last week: Put all the bath toys in a bin to be sterilized in the dishwasher. (In case you’re wondering? Mermaid Barbie is dishwasher safe.) rinse out the tub, wash the tub, re-wash the children in the shower this time to avoid anymore poop incidents. Get their jammies on. Order them to PLAY IN THEIR ROOM while you go back and really clean the bathroom that was affected by the poop incident. Not all of the bathroom…that’s not necessary.

As the kids were playing in their room, I guess AndyZ bumped his head or something. NikkiZ decided to get him a bandaid and then to get one for herself to match. After I finished the clean-up and saw their matching bandaids…I had to grab a picture. These are the resulting photos.

Looking at her like, "What is she talking about?"

One trying to be cute...one trying to escape

Yook!

Fancy

Hmmm?

He totally wins

Always with the crazy eyes

That’s the magic of Motherhood, to me. That the act of cleaning up poop residue off of bath toys (because it couldn’t be the EASY kind of poop, could it?) and sterilizing dolls with poop in their hair – that is nothing consequential. It’s just something you do…like feeding the dog when they’re hungry, or putting the dishes up after dinner. One of the many normal chores that become part of your life. You don’t get stressed about it (Because really…what good does that do?) and you sometimes even laugh at it. (Or you would if you saw your daughter squealing about gross poop water in her hair.) You just do it…and then go about your life. Recognizing how adorable your kids are with matching fake booboos. Taking their picture without once caring that you just spent 20 minutes scrubbing poop out of your tub. Something about Motherhood makes you able to do things you would have never imagined yourself doing…and then not even thinking twice about doing them.

Because…really? If I had spent too much time freaking out over the bathtub poop incident? I might have missed out on this:

Is this a competition?

And that would have simply been a tragedy.